Conversations
by Loisarah
Summary: The team visits Westlake in the hospital after getting shot in the ep Standoff


[Title]: Conversations  
  
[Author]: Loisarah  
  
[Email]: det_westlake@hotmail.com  
  
[Feedback]: Yes, please, at addy above  
  
[Disclaimer]: Characters not mine, property of Pet Fly and Paramount, I am writing this for fans, and not for profit.  
  
[Author's Notes]: Another story of mine inspired by "Stand Off" from season 2 (Or, technically, season 1 syndicated, second season overall). Originally I tried to focus on Cole in this story, but, as usual, it's about Westlake. Why do all my stories do that?  
  
This takes place in a hospital, but I know nothing about hospitals... I'm usually not in them unless I'm drugged or visiting my sister in the maternity ward. And yes, as a future student (hopefully) of forensic science I know how damaging that gunshot should have been to Westlake, but C'mon, this is TV   
  
  
[Archive permission]: Viper Archive (well, duh ) anyone else ask  
  
[Status]: Completed story  
  
[Summary]: Aftermath of Westlake's gunshot wound in the episode "Stand Off".  
  
[Timeline]: Season 2, following the episode "Stand Off"  
  
[Categories]: Missing scene, Angst, maybe a little Romance, character injury  
  
[Date first posted or Date of most recent revision]: December 17, 2000  
  
[Rating]: PG  
  
[Warnings]: Spoilers for "Stand Off", tiny spoiler for "People Like Us" and "Mig-89", not a Joe/Westlake romance fic, but Cole/Westlake romance  
  
  
  
The throbbing in his head wouldn't go away, and the adrenaline rush didn't seem to be showing any signs of ebbing any time soon, either. He'd begin to finally calm down and his mind would flash back to the stand off and immediately the fight or flight reaction would kick in again, even though he wasn't in any danger anymore. He would tense up, senses on edge, like he was waiting to see one of the rogue agents around the corner, aiming to kill him or one of his partners. They almost had.  
  
It wasn't like he'd never been in a dangerous situation before. He'd honestly never felt like he was really going to die before. Not even when he'd been shot, while still with the CIA. That's probably because, as his former partner Parker would have said, he was too green and too stupid to know better.  
  
Thinking about Parker, one of his old partners, brought his mind back to her. He was sitting on a bench placed along the wall of the ICU, directly across from her room. He watched the doctors and nurses through the long rectangle window, watched her sleeping, pale as the sheets of the bed. "That should be me there, not her," he thought, his heart racing again, making fists at his side. "I told her to stay inside," continued his thoughts.  
  
The paramedics at the gas works had said Westlake was stabilized, that she'd be okay, but she'd had a hard time in surgery, when they got the bullet out. She'd lost too much blood.  
  
He noticed someone approaching him from the corner of his eye, and turned, once again stressed and alert. Allie and Frankie were heading his way.   
  
"How's she doing?" Frankie asked, when he got closer, peering into the cluttered ICU room.  
  
"I don't know... the doctors have been in there since I've been here... I don't like the way that looks."  
  
Allie peered into the room after Frankie walked away from the door, taking her turn watching the medical staff. "Looks like she's stabilized again."   
  
She stepped back from the door as a young doctor walked through, sizing up the three people outside the detective's door.  
  
"Are any of you relatives?"  
  
Cole looked at Allie and Frankie, and then back at the doctor. "Yes... her... brother," he lied, afraid that if he said no, they'd refuse to update him any more.  
  
"Your sister is stabilized. She should be all right now."  
  
"Yes... can I go in now?"  
  
"Yes," the doctor eyed the other two people before responding, "Right now we'd like to restrict it to family only."  
  
"Of course," Allie responded, sitting down on the bench where Cole had been. "Frankie and I will sit here, you go in, Tom."  
  
Cole nodded at Allie and walked into the room to sit beside Westlake's bed.  
  
"What's that all about? I'm her brother?" Frankie started, before Allie put her hand on his arm, stopping his tirade.  
  
"One of us had to say we were family, otherwise we'd all have been shut out," she glanced in the room at Cole and then back at Frankie before continuing, "besides, it's important to him that he's in there."  
  
Frankie looked at Allie skeptically. "What? You gonna tell me he's in love with Westlake?"   
  
"I'm not sure... I think he might be."  
  
"What? They're in love?"  
  
"No... Frankie, but you know he thinks he's responsible for her."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. What if... what if she dies, Allie?"  
  
"She won't... she can't."  
  
  
  
Inside Westlake's room Cole pulled the chair up next to be bed, and rested his arms on the bed, crossed, watching her, almost afraid that if he stopped she'd stop breathing. He thought about earlier, watching her as she slept in the gas works, as if his watching her was willing her to live.  
  
He'd almost told her he loved her there. He still wasn't sure why he'd thought about saying it, or why the idea suddenly popped into his head, that he could love her.   
  
Because she's smart, tough, beautiful, and, even though she'd probably cringe at the use of the word to describe her, adorable, all at the same time.   
  
She was also headstrong, stubborn, and had a deathly fear of failure, or admitting that she just might try and fail at something.   
  
The debate going on in his head, about why or why he shouldn't love this woman almost made him smile, and he suddenly felt like everything was going to be all right, somehow.  
  
Her eyes opened, and her head turned, she looked down at him. Her eyes were a little on the glassy side, the painkillers obviously doing their job. "You still look like hell, Cole."  
  
"You look beautiful, Westlake."  
  
"Huh?" was the groggy response.  
  
"I'm glad you're alive, that better?"  
  
"I'm not so easy to get rid of..."  
  
Cole smiled, "Well, I'm happy to hear that."  
  
"I don't feel any pain... I doan' feel much of anythin'..." Westlake's words slurred a bit.  
  
"That's good, I think... you probably don't want to feel the slug in your gut."  
  
"Cole... will I 'member this tomorrow?"  
  
"I hope not."  
  
"Me too."  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning Cole woke up with a stiff neck, and opened his eyes, at first unaware of where he was, until he remembered the events from the day before, and that he was in Westlake's hospital room.  
  
"Morn'in," she mumbled, seeing he was awake too.   
  
"Westlake... how do you feel?"  
  
She rolled her head from the side to back straight on the pillow. "Like hell."  
  
"Me too."  
  
She smiled at him, and then her expression turned serious. "Cole... what was it you were going to say to me inside? Really?"  
  
"That..." he began, but stopped. That I love you, that I want to be more than partners...I think... and that I wish it had been me that had been shot.  
  
"Cole?"  
  
"That I wish it had been me."  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
"I didn't want you to get hurt, Cameron."  
  
"Me either." She smiled. "It's all right, Cole. I'm your partner, not someone you're responsible for."  
  
"I know."  
  
The sat in the silence for a few moments, enjoying the quiet.  
  
"So... you're gonna have one hell of a scar there, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
Cole grinned before continuing, "combined with that tattoo of yours it will make you really look like a tough girl."  
  
"Sure... uhm... when did you see my tattoo?"  
  
"Well... that outfit you wore in that club wasn't the most... conservative one."  
  
"No, guess not."  
  
She turned and faced him again, "so when exactly did you see it?"  
  
"When we were in the shoot out with Dietz's men... crouched behind the bar..."  
  
"Oh. Yeah."  
  
"My bullet scar was really red at first, but it's faded... and you may be able to find a plastic surgeon who can work on it, too, if you're worried."  
  
"You were shot?"  
  
"Yeah... when I was a bodyguard in the diplomatic corps. A would-be assassin jumped out of a crowd, and I protected the ambassador."  
  
"Where did you get shot?"  
  
"Here." He pointed to a spot on his abdomen, and stood up, pulling up his shirt a little bit. "Here's the scar."  
  
"Wow... take you long to recover?"  
  
"Long enough to make me realize I didn't want to play bodyguard much anymore."  
  
She smiled. "I'm glad you did."  
  
"I think you'll recover fast. Probably not possible for you to stay still unless you're sedated, I'll bet."  
  
"No, not really." She smiled at him again.  
  
"Were you awake long before I woke up?"  
  
"Yeah... the nurses came in and dosed me, checked up on me... and I just... thought about my dad."  
  
Cole leaned forward in his chair. Westlake hadn't mentioned her father to him before. She talked about how aggravating her mother was, and about her brothers, what cities and departments they were detectives with, but she never mentioned her father.   
  
"Where is your father? I know Captain DeMeo was trying to get a hold of your family... your mother is out of touch..."  
  
"That's okay. I don't need a swarm of people here... besides, what my mother doesn't know won't hurt her."  
  
"Is that a good idea to not tell her about this?"  
  
"Probably not, but I'm going to try it anyway."  
  
"Ah. Good luck."  
  
"He was murdered."  
  
"What? Who?"  
  
"My father."  
  
"Oh... oh, Cameron... I didn't know... I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right."   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"Yeah... I guess. I can't stop thinking about it. I was lying there, on the floor in that room, wondering what it was like for him... did he die right away? Linger?"  
  
"When did it happen?"  
  
"I had just turned fourteen. I still don't know exactly what happened, I'm afraid to look at his case. I remember doing my homework, and seeing Captain Benning pull up in front of my mom's house... and I... I overheard him telling her that my dad was gone."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"All I know, is that he was found in an alley... I didn't want to know more then. He was gone, that's all I understood at the time."  
  
"Did they solve the case?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Is that why you became a cop?"  
  
She paused before continuing. "Maybe. My hero was always my dad, and I missed him. I guess I thought this would make me feel close to him again."  
  
"Did it?"  
  
"In a way. I understand him better now. And I hope he'd be proud."  
  
"I'm sure he is."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Daddy's little girl, huh?"  
  
"Yes. My mother... I love her to death, but she's so... high-maintenance. I drove her crazy by being a tomboy. She didn't understand me, but Dad did." Westlake paused before switching the conversation from herself to Cole. "What about you? Now that I'm spilling my guts... in more ways than one... what about your dad?"  
  
"We don't talk much."  
  
"Ah. You want to talk about him?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Your family?"  
  
"I have a sister here in Metro... Marion... and a niece, Samantha... you should meet her some day."  
  
"I think I'd like that."  
  
"I don't spend as much time with them as I should..."  
  
"None of us that do what we do spend as much time with our families as we should."  
  
"True."  
  
"Your mother?"  
  
"She... she died. She had a heart attack... I was 18, Marion was 22, and Jack, my younger brother was 15. I ... we were close, I took it... hard. Graduated from high school, left town, and I haven't looked back since."  
  
"Oh."  
  
When Cole didn't respond, Westlake continued. "Cole... why did they let you stay with me?"  
  
"I told them I was your brother."  
  
"Oh. Good one."  
  
"You being sarcastic?"  
  
"No... I'm glad you were here."  
  
"I'm just happy you're here."  
  
"Two of us are." She smiled.  
  
  
  
"Hey, Westlake."  
  
"Hey Frankie. Nice shirt."  
  
"Hey, thanks, thought I'd wear it just for you, brighten up your room."  
  
"It works." She smiled at him, still standing in the doorway in his bright and shiny orange button up shirt.  
  
"Are you really okay, Westlake? Do you want me to leave you alone? Do you want me to do anything for you? Can I tell you somethin'? I don't..."  
  
"Frankie," Westlake laughed, "Yes, I'm fine, no, I don't want you to go, sit down."  
  
Frankie stopped talking long enough to walk into the room, and set the flowers down that he was carrying beside Westlake's bed.  
  
"We were really scared about you, Cameron."  
  
"Wow..."  
  
"Wow what?  
  
"I don't think you've ever called me by my first name before."  
  
"Westlake just has such a nice ring to it, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess. What would Metropol be without a Westlake in it's ranks. Where's your little buddy Allie?"  
  
"She's still at home asleep, I think. We were outside your room most of the night... they weren't sure you'd make it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Westlake," Frankie continued, half serious.  
  
"Believe me, I don't want to." She smiled at him.   
  
"You and Cole talk a lot?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"About what?" Frankie quizzed her, thinking of Allie's comments the night before.  
  
  
"Stuff... personal stuff... we just... talked."  
  
"Oh," he replied, silently wondering what the hell she meant. He asked, "What the hell does that mean?"  
  
Westlake started to laugh, until her wound in her side starting to give her more pain, and she stopped. "Ouch..."  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yes, I'm okay, Frankie... personal stuff means we talked about our families... past... my tattoo... stuff like that."  
  
"Oh, okay... TATTOO?"  
  
"Be a good boy, Frankie, and one day I may show it to you."  
  
"That a threat or a promise, Westlake?"  
  
  
  
  
"Hey... Cam... how you feelin'?" Allie softly walked into the hospital room, making sure the door shut slowly behind her.  
  
"Like hell... and so sick of hearing everybody ask me that."  
  
"I'll bet." Allie smiled as she sat down. "So I heard one of your brothers was here... your family all coming?"  
  
"No... everyone knows I'm okay, and Steven's gonna call everyone to reassure them."  
  
"What about your mom?"  
  
"She's coming whether I want her to or not."  
  
Allie smiled. "Doing what a mom does."   
  
"Yeah... she's gonna be here when I'm released, and take me home, stay with me a few days."  
  
"If you need anything, call me... tell her she can call me."  
  
"Thanks, Allie."  
  
"What do you think it's going to be like, to come back to work after this, Cam?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm just glad I have the chance to find out."  
  
  
(c) 2000, SEG and Home Sweet Cyber Home  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
